


ANSWERÉ

by wokainight



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), EXO (Band), NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band), SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/F, F/M, Growing Up, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Reply Series, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16715151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokainight/pseuds/wokainight
Summary: Youth.A question with no true answer.





	ANSWERÉ

 

If I were to try and explain everything in one go, nothing would make sense.

 

Back then, everything seemed so simple.

 

For me, most of my youth was taken for granted. I was ignorant of the fast ball termed future and the implication of every single choice I made.

 

I laughed a lot. And cried a lot.

 

There were times that I regretted more than once a day— and moments which I wished went on forever.

 

But if I had to deduce everything down,

 

I came through the other end because of some very, very special people.

 

**[FEBRUARY 1999: 19 YEARS AGO]**

 

“It’s been fifteen minutes Hyuck,” I deadpanned, almost slanted against the wall in deep agony, wailing briefly before suspension seeks it’s thrill.

 

Donghyuck doesn’t quite reply, urging on with his continous moans and groans, encapsulated behind the closed wooden door, ultimately in pain.

 

There’s a brief sobs that waltzed in, along with the rush of spinning toilet paper rolls.

 

“There’s no time limit to my asshole!” He wheezed out, practically yelling at the end. “Shit on Doyoung’s face instead! That nincompoop—”

 

There’s a tap on my right shoulder which seizes me into shock, zoning out of Donghyuck’s rants and into a sea of chocolate eyes, seemingly apologetic in the perpetrator’s stead. His hair had been sweep back into exhaustion, strands flying under the heat of the day. There’s beads of sweat that rushes down his temple, lashes heavy with perspiration.

 

“Sooah, the bathroom upstairs is free,” he softly calls, a small smile never leaving his slightly pale lips.

 

Before I could even utter a matter of gratitude, my feet skidded into light motions, rushing for the staircase. It was around half of the stairs, before his view completely dissapears, that I remembered my manners.

 

“Thanks Jae!”

 

There’s a soft reply from the moment I stepped foot onto second floor.

 

“It’s Yoonoh now, Sooah!”

 

Yoonoh, Yoonah, Bananas. Who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to change their name in the first year of high school? And which friend would remember it? Especially if it’s a good friend of theirs (aka me). Like, I barely have time to remember my own last name— and mind you, we’re supposed to write it down for every test.

 

There’s a soft breeze of artificial fragrance that greets me the moment I slammed the bathroom door shut, stripping my pants down so swiftly I could barely see the hand movements. The moment I landed on the toilet seat, I was sold to the devil.

 

“Oh my god I’m going to kill Dongyong that ugly ass peacock,” I muttered incantations underneath my breath, eyes unfocused.

 

There’s probably a reason why I shouldn’t touch appetising food on top of the kitchen tops, labelled _‘for our lovely hyuck’_ and supposedly send to us by Lee Taeyong. Why, oh god, why didn’t I notice the different in handwriting sooner? Though the cheesy steak hotdog was so good that I barely got a bite, and so did Jaehyun, the laxatives that came attached to it didn’t seem so sweet afterwards. Well, at least Donghyuck got the burnt end of the stick. He finished more than eighty percent of the dog, that means he’s most probably excreting out all his intestines and inner organs.

 

There’s a moment of peace as my bowels emptied out all of it’s contents, cursing Dongyong (or Doyoung, we call him. His name is a bit wordy sometimes.) for his terrible antics and my own stupidity for falling for such trap.

 

Should’ve known something was about to happen after Hyuck bragged about his _‘oh-so-successful’_ prank on Dongyoung.

 

There’s a soft rasp on the door, drowned by my desperation to elimitate the volcano bubbling inside my digestive system.

 

“Sooah, are you okay?” It was Lee Taeyong.

 

Supposedly he’s mature and very motherly. True. But much more than that— he’s awfully like a baby chick. More often than not he’d be awfully uncoordinated and clumsy I guess. Unless those two words mean the same thing— he’s a mixture of both. Trust me.

 

“Do you have anti-laxatives?” I gasped, clutching onto the roll of toilet paper on my side violently, bending the roll out of shape, hand marks encircling it.

 

There’s soft murmurs from behind the doors, assumingly a skeptical conversation was taking place.

 

“Jaehyun’s just run off to get them,” Taeyong’s warm, low tone reassures me, almost hearing the sympathy in his voice. There’s a sudden cut to the verbal exchange when Taeyong seemingly turns his head around, voice more distant, and called out: “I forgot, sorry.”

 

“Did Jae just repriminded you with his _‘I’m Yoonoh’_ crap?”

 

Laughter rings after my question, Taeyong crinkling into hearty jingle bells, “how did you know? I could barely hear him.”

 

“I can read him like a book,” I snorted.

 

The sudden pain struck me like lightning as I feel my muscles tense up under the process of elimination.

 

Oh god.

 

Kim Dongyoung was about to turn into crap.

 

(Well, in my mind at this point.)

 

After a hell of a light year later, I came winging and limping on one leg, thoroughly traumatised by the overwhelming experience. Never in my life have I expelled so much… stuff. It’s as if I drank a whole galloon of laxative tea.

 

“Hey,” a soft voice whispered. 

 

Glancing up from staring at the wooden floorings, my brows raised at the voice, wondering why he was still around.

 

“Feeling better?” Jaehyun queers, smiling sympathetically. “Sort of?” He tries again, after the lukewarm reaction.

 

My voice seems strangled inside, as my face contorts into a unique, unaesthetically pleasing expression, not quite capturing the tunnel of pain I just went through. If he hadn’t gone through the exact same experience mere moments ago, I would’ve… most probably… maybe… (swore at him).

 

(That’s what friends are for right?

 

… Ha ha.)

 

“Sort of.” I concluded, reaching out for the cup sitting on his right hand, which he immediately offered to me upon rememberance. “Is this the medicine?”

 

“That’s just water,” he clarifies, slightly amused. “Here’s the tablet,” he opens up his other hand and places it on my open palm, watching as I chugged the medicine down in one go. “It’s pretty quick acting so you should feel much better soon.”

 

“Thanks Jae.”

 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to correct me, but closes it when he sees no change would be submitted even after countless reminders. Deciding to be the bigger person, he ruffles my hair gently, not enough to mess it up completely, before urging me downstairs. “Hyuck’s still inside the bathroom by the way,” he reported, chuckling.

 

My eyes widened as I held onto his shoulder, “seriously? He went inside before you did!”

 

“Taeyong’s given him the medicine but he still hasn’t come out.”

 

“Oh my god,” I cackled, “he must’ve lost his sense of smell after that. Hyuck’s farts are the worst! And he’s having diarrhoea for goodness sake— wow—“ I clapped, “that’s true brotherhood right there.”

 

Jaehyun humours me with a reaction, laughing as his eyes crinkled into brilliant cresents.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but Taeyong would’ve done it for any of us I think.”

 

My face contorts into a look of discomfort and lowkey disgust. “You’re all guys so I understand— but despite how I look I’m still a female by gender you know.” I shuddered, “if any of you tried to come into the bathroom while I had diarrhoea— wait! My pants are down you pervert!” By this time, we had reached the end of the stairs and watched as Taeyong raises a brow at the vulgar nature of our conversation, mixing a hot drink for us to indulge in.

 

Feeling the heat on both cheeks, I ducked my head lower than usual and scurried onto the couch, effectively jumping on it.

 

Jaehyun’s low chuckles followed, as he sits himself rather close and comfortable to my right side. “We know you’re a girl,” he make eye contact with the other male in the room, smiling when Taeyong sits beside him. “Don’t we treat Sooah like one too?”

 

“Sure we do,” Taeyong grins, rather mischiviously.

 

“Ha ha,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, sure you do.”

 

Just as Jaehyun picked up the remote and was browsing through the available movie list projected upon the screen, the front door opened, taking all of our attention.

 

The newcomer had been dressed in his barely tidy, slackened uniform hummed inside, glancing at the three of us with a raised brow. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes without much malicious intent.

 

Before anyone else could start, I jumped out of the couch in the speed of lightning, almost tripping my the spare cushions. Feeling the pressure of landing on the anterior of my foot, I genuinely sprinted at the target, watching as his eyes widen under the sudden attack.

 

From behind me, I heart the faint calls of Taeyong’s, _‘don’t fight!’_.

 

The minute I felt my arms tackling the torso, a sudden feeling of contentment and self-pride for avenging the dreadful bathroom memory came into place.

 

“Shit, Sooah!”

 

There’s a thread of footsteps behind me as the other two figures in the room tries to split the kindling cat fight apart. I feel fingers pinch my cheeks as painfully as possible while I bit onto the hand that latched onto my face. Hard.

 

“OW! OW! OW!” The perpetrator wheezed out, eyes teary. “FUCK!”

 

I feel a force pulling me back as gentle as possible, chest heaving heavily as I fell back onto the wooden floor.

 

There’s a pair of red, bleary eyes glaring down at me, a frown in defence. He kicks at my leg in a sense of injustice, nose flaring.

 

“What the hell was that for?” There’s distinct anger in his tone, answered by my own selfish huff. “Are you acting like you don’t know?”

 

Taeyong looks back and forth between the two parties, brows knitted in worry. “Guys, come on, no fighting.”

 

“I’m asking because I don’t know, _obviously_.”

 

“The hot dog Doyoung.” Jaehyun broke the ice, slightly insulted by the lack of confession.

 

Doyoung, whose non-alias is Kim Dongyoung, puts on the most authentic, grammy winning act. His eyes widen at the confrontation, bottom lip slightly jutting out in thought. He blinks at the three of us as if we were strangers, both brows raising up. “What hotdog?”

 

Taeyong takes a glance back at me and Jaehyun, watching the both of us exchange knowing looks.

 

“Did you not leave a hotdog for Donghyuck to eat?”

 

“Huh?” Doyoung frowns deeply, to the point that wrinkles appeared on top of his complexion. “How can I leave something for him when this is the first time I’ve stepped a foot into your house,” he grumbled, thoroughly dissatisfied. “What’s with the world war three for a welcome anyways?” He eyed me specifically, watching as I gave him a particularly dirty look. “Stop looking at me like that Baek Sooah! You started this first!”

 

Between the heavy staring contest, Jaehyun, who had been thinking all along in the side lines, furrows his brows in thought. There’s a moment of hesitation in his expression before he snaps his fingers in realisation, as if a lightbulb had appeared on top of his head.

 

“Could we have gotten food poisoning from the yogurt drink we had?”

 

Three other heads snap at the conclusion, with wary gazes being exchanged in between.

 

“What… do you mean?” I pondered on, straightening out my clothes in the process.

 

Jaehyun scratches at chin, focused on recalling today’s occurences. “I think we just assumed that Doyoung left the hot dog for us and completely excluded any other food we’ve eaten beforehand.”

 

“That makes sense,” Taeyong leans forward, changing position to cross his legs instead. “You wouldn’t get stomach upsets and diarrhoea so soon after eating something. You need to digest it after all.”

 

“See Sooah,” Doyoung sends me a pointed look. “This is why I keep on telling you to think before you act.”

 

I lowered my gaze a bit, feeling rather stuffy in my uniform.

 

Well, no one said that accusing someone was a thing of the past.

 

Taeyong sends me a strangely apologetic gaze as he once again mediates between Doyoung and I. “You should probably say sorry first this time Sooah. I think he deserves an apology.”

 

“My cheeks hurt too,” I grumbled.

 

There was something with me and apologies. I do feel guilty for acting without considering other posibilities and just blinding framing Doyoung as the culprit behind all of this. But despite all of that, a sense of unwilling pride hinders me from being a _good_ person. I watch as I fiddled on top of my skirt, feeling a soft hand on my back, gently encouraging me.

 

Doyoung looks moderately apologetic as he reaches out to check on the big, red mark he’s casted on my cheeks, lighting touching them. “They do look red.”

 

My eyes linger on the marks on his hand, grasping them gently, watching as he winced slightly. “I’m sorry for biting you.” I murmured, as if it was not more than a mere whisper. “I should’ve used my head a bit before acting— like you said.”

 

With a single apology, I felt a weight on my shoulders being lifted off.

 

Simple things are always the hardest to complete. They have a tendency to be overlooked in favour for more complex matters and tend to pile up before your eyes.

 

“That’s okay.” Doyoung glanced at Taeyong. “But what is this hot dog business about again?”

 

“Oh,” Taeyong’s eyes widen, as the thought comes back to him. “You apparently left Haechan a plate of hot dog and the three had diarrhoea afterwards.”

 

“I’m not sure about the hotdog, but I think our stomach problems were caused by the yogurt. It tasted a bit off but I didn’t think much of it at the time.” Jaehyun clarified.

 

Doyoung’s mouth opens to reply— when a strong force slams the bathroom door open and a furiously steaming Donghyuck departs from it, bring a strong, foul odour with him.

 

I reached out to pinch my nose instinctively, eyes already watering at the first whiff of the bomb shell.

 

“Oh my god, it smells like someone’s died in there.” I doubled over, hiding behind Jaehyun’s broader frame.

 

Sacrifices are meant to given in times of dire need.

 

There’s a hazy look that Donghyuck throws at me, watching as he held one arm over the supposedly nonexistant contents of his stomach, legs heavy. His eyes are burrowed into a specific person, with Doyoung immediately perceiving the threat. He raises both hands in surrender, eyes wider than ever. “It’s not me! I came back from tuition I swear!”

 

“Hyuck he’s telling the truth,” Taeyong intercepted, slightly blocking Doyoung’s cowering figure. “Doyoung just arrived. I think— I think something else caused your… err… problems.” His eyes dart to and from the fuming ogre and back at the withering bunny, while the other two spectated casually.

 

“Guys,” I called, shifting the attention towards me. “Before we do anything else, is there any way—“ I emphasised, “that we could get rid of the smell?” My head snapped towards the anger hungry hulk in the room, “like, can you take a bath or something? You smell like a homo sapien. And trust me, I know how they smell from my evolutions text book.”

 

An elbow nudges itself into my rib slightly, most probably a futile attempt from mister Jung _oh-so-nice_ Jaehyun.

 

“I don’t smell!” Donghyuck, alias Haechan, proclaimed, sniffing into his shirt. There was a second brief before he played regurgitating his emptied insides. “Oh wha—” He wheezed, eyes stinging once again, “okay, maybe a little.”

 

 _‘A little??’_ I wanted to fight him right there and then.

 

“Should we at least evaluate the hotdog or something?”

 

Donghyuck, Jaehyun and I stared at Doyoung the exact same time, most probably thinking of the same thing.

 

Taeyong sighs as he decides to break the bomb shell. “They’ve eaten it all.”

 

“We still have the note though,” Jaehyun added, reliefing the rather fate-stricken look on Doyoung’s face, as his fingers automatically redo the two fallen buttons from the previous occasion.

 

We all stood up relatively quickly, reassuming our positions as _good ol’ friends_.

 

And like marching ants towards leftover food, we made our way back to the kitchen, where Doyoung grabs ahold of the letter to scrunitise it. He brings it ever so closely to his face and squints.

 

“I would have done a better job in tracing Yong’s writing.” He declared, out of the blue.

 

The three victims, (including me), glares him down for a few seconds before we re-focused back to the note.

 

“It’s a bit too neat to be your writing,” Jaehyun turns to Taeyong, blinking at him.

 

“You know what?” Donghyuck leans back, now making his way back to the living room. “I don’t care anymore at this point. I’ve lost enough braincells and more during this disaster.”

 

“But aren’t you curious?” I pinpointed, brows raising. “I mean, the yogurt might have been the culprit for our stomachs— but who would have left this hotdog for you?” My eyes glance around. “Especially if none of us did.”

 

Behind us, the front door opens, along with the crinkling of plastic bags and a familiar yell. “Kids! I bought chicken!”

 

And just like the dramatic end of a scene, all our heads turn towards the voice, the puzzle pieces finally coming together.

 

As I exchange looks with the boys, there was no longer a suppression for my incoming laughter, as I doubled over on the kitchen island, holding onto Doyoung’s shoulders for support.

 

It was hell of a day for a bunch of freshman high school and middle schooler Kim Donghyuck.

 

Turns out, the perpetrator had been the yogurt and the lovely lady to deliver toasty hot dogs for Hyuck had been his mum, Missus Lee.

 

In the end, we watched the sci-fi movie we were supposed to watch while eating chicken.

 

I did feel a little bad for Doyoung’s hand… but my cheeks deserved better.

 


End file.
